


Ashes of the Sun

by Arya_Greenleaf, Naniris



Series: Siken Inspired Stories [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker (2019)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Armitage Hux Lives, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Everyone is Dead, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Post-Canon, Rough Sex, The Dark Side of the Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:13:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22985371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naniris/pseuds/Naniris
Summary: When they hit the floor, Hux isn’t sure whether the air is punched from his chest by the impact or the implicit urgency of it all. He gets his fingers around Kylos’ jaw, clutching tight enough to make the bloodless shade of his skin flush pink and red. Hux stares hard at Kylo’s eyes and wonders if he’ll miss the deep, dark brown of them and the expressive sadness that always lingered there?
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Series: Siken Inspired Stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1144817
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	Ashes of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a twitter thread by AG and Iris, prompted by a Sikenbot post in which AG shouted "post-tros kylux":
> 
> _This is my hand over his face, which isn’t his face anymore, revising._
> 
> See endnotes for a spoilery warning re: MCD/Everyone is dead. Seriously have a look if you are at all sensitive to dark themes involving the heroes.

Kylo's bare face is fascinating and disgusting. It reminds Hux of time long lost: before Kylo was Commander Ren, before Snoke was nothing more than a puppet.

There is more missing than that, than the scar -- the visual reminder that their lives and the galaxy at large are irrevocably changed.

This is no longer Hux's Kylo.

It's some abomination wearing Kylo's skin.

There was a hardness to Kylo. A dark, crackling red core. A sardonic wit. A smile _beautiful_ in its cruelty.

Hux doesn't know where the abomination has hidden _his_ Kylo. He is not witty anymore. He hasn't got that sarcastic bite or the eerily good sense of humor. His shoulders are always hunched and his feet are constantly unsure. He seems prepossessed with things beyond Hux's capability of knowing. There has been a clear regression to the pathetic boy Hux knew before Kylo found his footing in the Knights of Ren; before he found a path that led to his Darkest inclinations.

Hux will have to find a way to set him back on that path -- to help Kylo find his _true_ self again.

He's not really entirely sure how he's going to do it. This _thing_ that pretends to be Kylo has killed the Ren in the name of Light. His power is irrevocably changed -- adulterated. Hux can hardly fathom where to begin. He considers all that Kylo did to earn the former ruin of his haunting face. To step back into the shadow of the Dark, Hux reasons he must commit an immutable betrayal. He must snuff out the Light with Death.

 _Ben_ whispers that he can't do it.

He can't do it and keep Hux -- there is no one else that matters to him. Nothing else that he might sacrifice to satisfy the Force. He cannot straddle two paths and he refuses to let Hux go.

Hux sneers at him while he grovels. "Sentiment," he says, disgusted.

Hux is sure that there must be some more symbolic meaning. Kylo takes everything much too literally. It's what got him -- _them_ \-- into this absolute mess in the first place. Killing Solo was a mistake. Hux has always had a healthy respect for Kylo's power and the forces surrounding it. He knows that there is nuance he can never hope to grasp. But, Kylo was a fool to think such a vain act would free him of the Light's pull, that it would not make those forces double-down.

If Kylo cannot bring himself to do something _decisive_ then he is of no further use to Hux.

Or the Order.

Or the galaxy.

Hux can handle all of it on his own. He did that before Kylo. He was the commander of the Order's flagship for a reason. He does not _need_ Kylo.

Hux issues an ultimatum and leaves him to it.

As _Ben_ continues to struggle with the reality of his being, Hux studies the ancient texts Kylo once respected. He searches for clear fact amidst the esoteric. Kylo -- Ben -- had once spoken about temples he explored and the ways in which the Force moves and feels so different near a locus of power.

Giving up on Jedi and Sith gibberish, tired of droids and computers struggling to translate scanned bits of crumbling books, Hux decides he must develop a method of tracking down those loci, instead. For Hux, his search is really no more difficult than tuning the oscillator on Starkiller was. He quickly resolves that all of the nonsense with wayfinders is just that -- _nonsense_. Energy is energy.

 _Ben_ goes off on self-determined quests to find what he's lost. He searches for his lightsaber in the sea of Kef Bir and for the helmet that had become so much a part of his identity. He searches for things he has tossed away and dearly wants back. The task is hard -- frustrating -- lonely.

The shadow of the Dark grows as his fear and anger and self-hatred grows new roots in his mind and heart.

He has always craved intimacy and camaraderie. His search brings him new Knights, too.

Hux feels the need to conceal Kylo's efforts to rebuild his sect from the rest of the First Order. He does not think that they will understand what Kylo is doing. Hux fears that it will only engender doubt among those that remain of command. Kylo's new Knights are a motley crew and Hux finds himself sniffing derisively as they find their way onto his ship. He has picked up strays instead of warriors, Hux thinks.

When Kylo finally returns to the fold, he and Hux meet as they once had to strategize. Kylo explains to Hux that the magnitude of the act he must commit to finally free himself is tremendous. He feels that now, _knows it_. The Dark's call is so much harsher than the pull of the Light ever was. His actions must match it.

Hux is satisfied that Kylo has finally found his footing, sitting there across the table with his gaunt, exhausted expression. Turning on a holo projector, Hux brings up the coordinates for Ahch-to. He knows it's the place Kylo had been searching for, before, to find Skywalker and end the Jedi. The girl is there now. She's not bothering to conceal herself or her efforts to gather up all of the Force users she can. The rumors that spread through the lower ranks of the troopers always have at least a threat of truth to them. Even though they are forbidden contact with the outside galaxy, it's impossible to cut them off from it completely. It's even more impossible without repeated rounds of reprogramming to erase their long memory of defection and desertion. The dissent and rumor mill are useful sometimes, though, like now. Hux knows who and what to expect by following those tenuous threads.

Hux motions at the projection. "You have always wanted to finish what your grandfather, _Lord Vader_ , started. Be the Jedi Killer. Crush the Resistance." _Under my banner,_ Hux thinks.

 _Ben_ inhales shakily and _Kylo_ exhales, determined. "No quarter, no prisoners."

Hux doesn't see him off at the hangar. All he needs is confirmation that the rebuilt Silencer and the sleek Upsilon have departed, full to the gills with Special Operations Troopers. They had been tried and tested under Phasma's firm hand and Hux's strict control.

With them go the fledgling band of Knights that Kylo has decided to call his own. He does not call them _The Ren_. Kylo doesn't call himself that any longer, either. He hardly refers to himself at all. Hux only continues to call him Kylo because there is nothing else. Who is he? _Ben_? Time will tell and Hux wonders whether any of them will survive.

There is no escaping Ahch-to. If Kylo fails, Hux will destroy this world from above. Kylo is still the Supreme Leader but right now, Hux holds all of the power. All the chips. The dice are loaded. The credits pot is fixed. He has no cards up his sleeve. It is only Hux's desire for a Dark Enforcer that has given him this luxury.

On Ahch-to the man once known as Ben -- once known as Kylo -- can be no more. _Is_ no more. He must kill the past the same way that he once demanded others do.

The temple burns.

Greenery all around dries and crackles like so much instantly made tinder.

The water around the island turns murky with fuel and soot and blood.

When Skywalker strikes, his ghost a wraith of despair and fury, Kylo isn't fooled. This is not righteous, loving fear. This is not a tactic to buy time for loved ones. With a cry of _Ben!_ , Kylo dissipates the Force Ghost -- all sentiment ignored.

Rey has wasted time trying to hide the younglings away, the traitor Finn at her side, while the rest fought tooth and nail and fell to the ground at Kylo's feet. He will correct his mistakes, will rectify his losses on Starkiller.

The Dark _sings_ in him and the island _burns_.

Fuel flares on the beach as craft are disabled and destroyed. The blaze is bright and intense enough to be seen from above the atmosphere.

There is a natural balance to the Force. It is ultimately amoral. Neutral. The Light and the Dark are constructs of those who use it and in their struggle the brighter the Light shines, the shadow it casts becomes all the more deep and Dark.

On Ahch-to, Kylo is a black hole -- neither reflecting nor emitting, only consuming anything and everything that dares to fall into his orbit.

As he recovers his breath in the cool, wet-smelling caves beneath the island, away from the fire and soupy, smoke-saturated air, he sees his reflection: On one side there is Ben. He is mute and insecure, wanting greatness and suffering for his unadulterated superiority. On the other there is Kylo Ren in his cracked helmet, the galaxy at his fingertips and still hungering for more.

In the middle, he sees himself. The corrupted glow in his eyes, so like the Sith who kept the gate at the threshold of the Dark, is fascinating. The reflection blinks back at him and he finally knows peace. He is rid of all bonds, natural and synthesized, that drained his power. There is balance in him that he's eager to share.

This is the thing that he has wanted from the moment he could articulate the need gnawing at his guts -- eating him from the inside for years and years, squashed down into the deepest, secret parts of him. This power, uninhibited and uncontrolled.

Although he feels its Dark manifestations, it's not _really_ that. It is raw and untamed and _his_ to do with as he wishes. And that's where the darkness really lies, he supposes. In that selfishness.

In the end it was the girl who was the key to this power. The girl herself, yes, but his fixation on her that had been stymied him. A fucking _dyad_. Unnatural. Manufactured by Palpatine's stranglehold over Kylo's power -- his heart -- his mind -- by the acute manipulation of the girl who he still does not entirely believe was Palpatine's blood.

So many lies. So many half truths. So many illusions.

He had invested _all_ of his focus, all of his rage, in the girl. He had fed the connection between them even if someone else had forced its creation. It could never be Solo or Organa who's death would bring him this thing that lives within him now. Ben may have longed for them but this new Kylo is unbothered. They were nothing to him. The girl had been nothing and he'd allowed her to become something.

To him. For him.

She had been the embodiment of the power he sought, unfettered and _free_.

It was his now.

All of it.

The power coursing through him needs an outlet and there is nothing left to destroy. Kylo laughs at himself, at his trifold reflection. He’s denied himself for too long with foolish, fruitless asceticism. He curls his hands into fists and lifts them, ready to break the mystic mirror… and stops. He can sense Hux even this far away, in the atmosphere above. Hux is impatient. Eager while he watches the island burn like an ill-formed campfire to warm his space-cool hands.

Hux wants power, ego enticed by such a flagrant display, and Kylo is filled to the brim with it.

He glances at the wreckage of the Silencer, sacrificed in the initial attack and wishes for a moment he hadn’t done it. If he could simply will himself aboard the ship, he would. He nearly laughs again, waiting impatiently for the handful of surviving troopers and Knights to board the shuttle. What a surprise it would be if in one breath he was suddenly there.

Everyone is covered in soot and blood and blaster burns. There had been so few sabers among those on the island, so little precious kyber to go around. The girl’s saber hangs from Kylo’s belt now, beside it the traitor’s. The majority had fought bare-knuckled, tragically civilian against the lineage of warriors the girl and the traitor had tried so hard to reestablish.

Hux would have to allow Kylo leave just once more before they settle into their rule. Tatooine is calling him, now. The defunct moisture farm, swallowed up by sand, is as clear in his head as if he had lived there himself. It was an odd choice for a burial, Kylo thinks. The girl really hadn’t understood her Masters at all -- Organa had only ever been a slave on that world, forced into service by the Hutt -- Skywalker’s last memory of the place was death and despair. Kylo's legacy languishes in the hot sand, twin chunks of corroding wire and heat-cracked kyber, waiting for him to take back what was stolen from his very hands.

For now, he would be content with this victory.

He would let himself relish in it just as he knew Hux would when he returned to the ship.

Hux greets the surviving troopers and Knights on their arrival, waiting in the hangar and trying not to appear too impatient. Kylo steps off the ramp and Hux sizes him up from head to toe -- the engine grease slick of his hair -- the frightening new glow of his eyes -- the sabers at his waist like an awkward bandolier -- the mud boots tracking across the slick floor. Hux smirks, amused, the same warmth in his gut as years gone by. “Took you long enough to accomplish this mission. Well done.”

Kylo lets the quip slide, it’s Hux after all. The man thrives on tearing others down where he sees his own shortcomings mirrored. Kylo steps past him with long, purposeful strides. The infirmary can handle troopers and Knights alike, there is no immediate need for him to stay. There is no demand for the strange power making his fingertips itch to touch the wounded. “I’ll be in my quarters,” he says, leaving without further qualification.

The brisk greeting takes Hux by surprise for a moment. Easy dismissal and cocky arrogance, Kylo hadn’t acted this way since Exegol. It hadn’t come so naturally for much longer. Immediately, Hux wants to be the cur Snoke had liked to accuse him of being, to bite into Kylo’s neck in retribution for the brush-off and not let go. How dare he turn his back on Hux again?

In a dizzyingly quick flip, Hux feels things within himself -- feels things that he thinks Kylo is projecting toward him -- that have long been dormant.

There is no longer need for performative decorum. His wits back about him, Hux follows Kylo at an easy gait. He’s almost surprised when Kylo pauses at the lift, waiting silently for Hux to join him. They step inside and the door shuts, some lieutenant on the other side just barely managing not to lose the tip of their nose in the process. It would have served them right, Hux thinks, for not recognizing the privacy that such authority in one contained space demanded. Hux presses his lips together, containing his morbid amusement.

Shut together in this small space, the air smells something like an electrical fire. It makes Hux’s head spin. He doesn’t care.

Hux leans in close, tracing down the length of Kylo’s face with his fingertips where the scar once twisted his flesh. This close, in such intimate distance, Hux is gripped by the intensity of Kylo’s eyes. There was once the barest hint of softness there that’s completely burned away with the island and all that he is sure Kylo has done. The darkness in his core is back. It is deeper that Hux has ever felt before. His face is hardened and cruel even in its gross blemishlessness.

As Hux touches his lips, Kylo catches Hux’s thumb between his teeth and squeezes aggressively. The sharp pain of it lances through Hux’s hand and up into his wrist.

Hux leans closer. “Do you still feel torn apart?”

This close Hux can smell the blood on Kylo’s skin and clothes, the dirt and smoke and sweat and… something else. That electric tang, getting sharper and clearer. He dares to lick the corner of Kylo’s smirk when he releases Hux’s thumb from his teeth, daring him to bite again.

Hux doesn’t like to be pushed against walls or into corners and supply closets. It makes him feel trapped and small. It reminds him of a boy who no longer exists -- thin as a slip of paper and just as useless. Kylo _knows_ this, and knows how it feels. Instead, he yanks Hux close, crushing him in his embrace, and bites back.

Hux’s mouth turns into a riot of red splotches and toothy grooves. His fingers curl into the heady hair around Kylo’s shoulders and dig into the meat of his neck. It takes a moment for Kylo to register the sound Hux is making: laughter. It is dark and syrupy, utterly poisonous and completely genuine.

Hux wants to consume him in every sense of the word. He would suck Kylo dry and leave behind the dusty remains of a dead star if he could. He would bring Kylo and the Force he wields to heel. He would make Kylo bow.

Kylo can sense these idle, intoxicated musings. It’ll never happen, of course. Not now. Now that Kylo is _absolute_. He’ll never serve another Master the way he served Organa and Skywalker and Snoke and finally Palpatine for so brief a moment -- the girl for just seconds, heartbeats. But power begets power and Kylo likes a challenge. Always has. Kylo Ren liked it. Ben liked it.

Kylo grips what’s his in his hands and fits their bodies together. The contact is so natural, the fit meant to be if there ever was such a thing.

The ride to the habitation level is far too short.

They hardly notice other residents in their path, of all manner of rank and position, as the trip over and manhandle each other in their efforts to reach Kylo’s quarters. They’re enthralled with each other. The pull of the Force in Kylo’s state of agitation is so strong that Hux can feel it even as null as he is. Something cell-deep is calling them together. They are _frenzied_ and those who happen across them look away and move quickly to avoid their attention.

The door opens of its own accord. It’s a childish trick that has always exasperated Hux except when it was entirely convenient. Like overzealous novices, they tumble over the threshold, tripping and tangling in robes and coats and too many legs without cooperative coordination. 

When they hit the floor, Hux isn’t sure whether the air is punched from his chest by the impact or the implicit urgency of it all. He gets his fingers around Kylos’ jaw, clutching tight enough to make the bloodless shade of his skin flush pink and red. Hux stares hard at Kylo’s eyes and wonders if he’ll miss the deep, dark brown of them and the expressive sadness that always lingered there? The state of him is so tantalizing, so _new_. The power burning just under the surface of his skin is intoxicating and tangible. The electrical fire stink of it is overwhelming -- somehow even more so now than in the close quarters of the lift. Hux nearly laughs, thinking the smell might settle into his own clothes like it’s a real thing, real smoke and burned wire.

In all the infuriating change, Kylo’s big mouth is the same. Hux bites until he tastes copper.

It’s vicious and wild, both unleashing in ways that they never have before. Kylo had always held back. Hux had always kept himself in check. The limits they imposed on themselves are shattering with each touch, each breath, and reforging into something unfettered and deadly.

The time for discipline and order will come later.

The fucking leaves them both battered and exhausted. Hux claws his way across the expanse of Kylo’s skin very literally, raising welts where scars once were. It wasn’t only the glorious ruin of his face that had been destroyed by the girl and Hux wants to undo her work so desperately.

They grapple and smack and bite, leaving purpled stipples over limb and muscle like neutron stars surrounded by clouds only revealed by high frequency scans. The steel floor is unforgiving beneath them, cold and hard. It’s almost a welcome alternative.

Breathless in the aftermath, Hux rest on top of Kylo. Fingers glide over hot skin, feeling their mutual work and tracing bite-shaped ridges and worrying chaffed flesh.

“I’ve never been so satisfied,” Hux muses. “But I can’t help but think we’ve been hasty.” He rests his sharp chin on Kylo’s chest, idly playing with an abused nipple. Kylo’s hands hold him possessively, stroking Hux’s back like a favored pet.

“What are you worried about?” Kylo asks,” There’s no one to answer to.”

Hux hums, all of his many aches settling in now that they’ve stopped moving. It’s true, he realizes. There is no one to answer to. No higher command than himself. Snoke’s shadow no longer falls across them. Hux and Kylo, collectively, are the apex. For the first time in Hux’s memory, he relaxes.

Kylo shifts beneath Hux, rolling his shoulder and wiggling his fingers. He lifts his head enough to look Hux in the eye. Hux lifts himself off, message received. His knees creak and pop while he gets to his feet. Kylo watches him for a moment while he rights his trousers.

“Come to bed,” Kylo says and hefts himself up off the floor. Unabashedly nude, he strolls across the space and passes through to his sleeping quarters. 

Hux follows, the modesty of the room around him making an impression. He casts a glance over his shoulder at the careless array of clothing on the floor. Kylo’s trophies are there, just as carelessly cast away. Hux wants to say something and holds his tongue. Kylo throws himself down onto the bed, hardly wide enough for himself let alone the pair of them, and sighs.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” Kylo says half into the thin pillow.

Hux settles on top of Kylo’s back, feeling the shift of Kylo’s broad muscles as he adjusts to the new weight. The strong scent of smoke lingers at the nape of his neck where Hux presses his face.

“You can finally name me Grand Marshall and let me plan for the future,” Hux says as a matter of fact. “We have the Core Worlds to conquer. And now that I’ve perfected the tracking, I can find more temples for you to raze.”

Kylo smirks. “That was my favorite pastime as a kid.” Reaching back somewhat awkwardly, Kylo brings Hux’s hand to his mouth. He nibbles delicately on the fingertips as he considers Hux’s proposal. “You’ll never be Grand Marshall.” Hux’s teeth find purchase against the back of Kylo’s neck where he’s rubbing his face and Kylo hisses at the shock that races along his nerves. He laughs, knowing Hux could just bear down, could end him right there. “No, I’ll make you Chancellor. Our Empire will be strong.”

Hux pretends that what Kylo’s just said doesn’t make his heart pound. He shifts, sitting up and straddling Kylo’s hips. The body beneath him lets out and _oof_ under the new distribution of weight. Hux feeds Kylo more of the length of his fingers, pressing down on his tongue and pulling his head back. Kylo’s lashes flutter and heavy lids close over his new, frightening eyes.

“You looted temples as a child?” Hux asks nonchalantly.

Kylo sucks on the fingers for a moment, trying not to gag with the pressure on his tongue and the strain on his neck. He’s pleased with himself, knowing Hux would never express gratitude directly. Hux finally releases his mouth and pats his cheek almost gently. Kylo rubs his face into Hux’s palm as he reminisces. 

“Lots of temples. I liked to collect odd weapons. My saber… it’s an ancient design, but uncommon. It was optimal to venting the cross-guard enabled was really optimal when my crystal cracked.” 

Kylo sighs and frowns, his brow crinkling. “Luke was _barely_ trained. He was looking for secrets, trying to learn how to be a Jedi from moldy books and silent ghosts. Something tells me now though, he was searching mostly for guidance in how to handle me. He didn’t understand my power, couldn’t fathom how deeply the Force ran in me.” 

Kylo sighs, sometimes he can hear the snobbery in his voice and he really cannot bring himself to care. “I found the Knights of Ren instead. Found my true path. I was no Jedi.”

Hux laughs out loud. “The Ren obviously didn’t know how to handle you either.”

“And you do?”

“I know that any attempt to control you is an experiment in idiocy.” Hux sighs and stares down at the pale expanse of Kylo’s back while Kylo settles his head on crossed arms. “I should get back to my own office. We’ll need to be in touch with the rest of the fleet. We can’t fool ourselves into thinking that the last dregs of the Resistance won’t try to retaliate. They weren’t all living on that island.”

“I can sense it if they attempt to approach.” The haughty bite in his voice has something of the old Kylo in it. “You’ve already crippled their most detrimental weapons against us with your track impellers. A day won’t make a difference.” Kylo reaches out a lazy hand and summons the lightsabers to himself. “It’ll take a generation for another Jedi to challenge me and just as long for them to figure out how to counter your tech.”

Hux doesn’t think Kylo understands. Hux knows _intimately_ how expendable he is. How easy it was for the Supreme Council to usurp his position -- and how little issue Kylo took with it when it happened. For him, a day can make a huge difference.

Hux tenses on top of Kylo as if getting ready to leave. It irks Kylo acutely that he cannot keep Hux satisfied and pliant for long, moreso that he insists on weaponizing Kylo’s actions after Snoke’s demise. Kylo will never regret the actions he took. They kept him in power, legitimized his claim to the role of Supreme Leader. The lasting consequence of Hux’s bitterness is irritating. 

Kylo holds onto Hux and turns so they might be face-to-face. He gestures to the lightsabers clanking together beside them on the narrow mattress. “Would you like to tear these apart? We can see what secrets they uncovered.” Kylo’s expression is seductive in its darkness. “Think you can make the kyber bleed?” Hux huffs, unamused, but cannot hide the interested glitter in his eyes. Kylo sits up, jostling him, and leans closer. “Would you like to use them for a round of executions, Chancellor? We can always find more for you to tinker with.”

Hux knows when he’s being placated. Groomed. Mollified. It works and he’s only very slightly ashamed. “Keep your trophies,” he purrs. He knows the reverence Kylo has for these things, how it would pain him to see them needlessly pulled apart just to study their guts. “They mean more to you intact than they do to me dissected.”

Kylo is tempting, truly, but Hux _does_ need to go. He cannot waste the day here in Kylo’s bed. It’s not even _comfortable_. Never was. He swings his leg over the body beneath him and plants his feet on the floor.

“You can bring me the next saber you take -- and the skull that goes with it.”

Kylo chuckles as Hux heads toward the refresher. He stretches, luxuriating in the low burn of arousal at Hux’s dismissal. Some things never change. Next time, Kylo reasons, he’ll have to fuck Hux truly senseless. For now, Kylo needs to find another member of a nearly extinct species for Hux to mount on his office wall. The challenge will be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Full transparency: the main plot involves Kylo finding the Resistance and burning it to the ground, very literally, and killing absolutely everyone present. Nothing is particularly graphic but we haven't tiptoed around it either.
> 
> Yes, the title is a play on words. 
> 
> Comments are wonderful, tysm!


End file.
